Alone is Not Alive
by White Wave Dancer
Summary: I'm taking the spotlight off Cooper and Jody, and putting it on one of my favorite characters: Maureen! Basically, it's the movie from her POV
1. Prologue

maureen Alone is Not Alive   
Maureen's Story   
By   
White Wave Dancer 

Prologue 

Nine. It was a very important number for me that year. Or at least, it was when the season began, only two weeks after my eighteenth birthday. It was then, at that small party Anna and Emily had thrown for me in the dorm room I used to share with them, that I realized the significance of the number nine in my life at that moment. It came to me when I was blowing out the candles on the tiny cake Anna had made for the three of us to share. There were two candles on the cake. Both were shaped like nines.   
"Nine and nine make eighteen!" Emily reasoned indignantly when I questioned her choice. I didn't mind. Really, I didn't. After all, they were only birthday candles. Except that they had given me an insight I didn't really want. Nine. That's how old I'd been when I'd first been accepted into the American Ballet Academy. And that was how many years I'd spent there. Nine years I ALMOST wished I had spent elsewhere.   
Don't think I'd never heard the things people said about me.   
"Maureen Cummings is such a stuck-up, show-offy, teacher's pet." was the word around the school while we were kids. Then, as we got older, and expanded our vocabulary, they insulted me behind my back in considerably shorter sentences: "Maureen's a bitch. What an asshole she is."   
Even Anna and Emily, two of ABA's best, who I actually considered my friends, took part in scorning me. The comments of these two, however, stung a lot worse, because they said them to my face.   
"You should really try to be nicer, Maureen." Anna sighed every night upon returning to our common dorm room after our last class had ended. "Then you might have friends other than your mom."   
"We all know you're the best at our level, Maureen." Emily would add. "But that doesn't mean you should rub everyone's nose in it." The three of us were roommates during my most tender years, and while I never let on that I was hurt by what they said in the daylight, when I was certain they were asleep, I would let myself go, and cry for hours on end. There was only one person I really told how much my friends' remarks had hurt, and that was my mom. In those days, I saw her as a super heroine, my savior. When I was accepted into ABA, she immediately quit her job back home in Texas, and took a position at American Ballet Company, just to be close to me. And when she heard that my roommates were insulting me, she acted without hesitating. I can only imagine Anna and Emily's surprise when they came back from class one day to find my things gone, with only a short, cold note telling them that I'd moved to another dorm room--one where no one else was living. Neither one ever said a thing about my attitude again--at least, not to my face. In a way, I preferred that. At least that way, I could imagine that they weren't saying anything at all.   
I guess we made up, because they started asking me along again when they went out, but things were always tense between us. It seemed silly that evening when I sat through the birthday party in my old dorm room. Really, Anna, Emily, and all the others had been the ones at fault, not me. This was the world of dance. It was a world of fierce competition, and it was a world we had all chosen. When someone better than you shows up, you work your ass off until you're at the top again. If they couldn't handle the fact that I was a better dancer than them, they should have just gotten out. Yet, during those days, I was unhappy. Unhappy that none of them wanted me for a friend. _Screw it. _I thought as I slowly ate my portion of my birthday cake._ I don't need friends like them. I don't need anything or anyone…as long as I can dance._   
__


	2. chapter 1

maureen2 Chapter 1 

Have you ever looked back on a moment, and wished whoever you were with had brought a camera, and snapped a picture of you? Whenever I recall the first day of the new season that year, I really wish my mom had had a camera within easy reach when I met with her in her office that morning, as I always did after breakfast. I would have liked to have seen the look on my face when she told me the news. I was absolutely horrified, and I'm sure my expression--and my voice--told all.   
"ROOMMATES?" I squeaked. "I have roommates?" Mom scowled deeply, and I could tell she was no happier than I was.   
"That's right." she told me gruffly. "Two. One from Boston, and one from Chicago. They'll both be in your class, so you'll all be in the workshop together." I moaned, and let my head drop into my hands.   
"Just what I need for my last year at this school." I muttered sarcastically.   
"Maureen, sweetie, I'm sorry. I talked to everyone, trying to get it changed, but there was nothing that could be done. I even went to Jonathan." I raised my eyes, feeling my misery was printed on my face.   
"No luck?" Mom sighed.   
"None. He refused to believe that roommates could do you any harm." I stared at Mom. Her eyes were disturbed, her mouth tight and angry. She met my gaze and held it for a long moment. She was trying to tell me something, or so I thought. I tried to read it in her eyes, but the effort gave me a headache.   
"So…what are we going to do?" I asked finally. Mom's shoulders sagged tiredly.   
"Tough it out, I suppose." She said curtly. "Just promise me that you won't let this take away from your dancing." I raised an eyebrow at her, surprised. Over the years, while my teachers trained me in technique and the like, Mom had taught me all about focus. No matter what, I was to pour every ounce of my energy into my dancing. Nothing else mattered. In class, I was to forget everything else. Outside of class, I was to focus on improving what I didn't do well enough during class. I had taken every one of her words to heart, and practiced them repeatedly.   
"How could you think I would let a little thing like roommates ruin my chance of getting into the company?" I asked her, just slightly insulted. Mom grinned.   
"That's my girl!" she informed me brightly, and leaned across her desk to kiss my cheek. "Now go on. Class begins in only three hours." 

*** 

In my early years of dancing, I suffered from terrible stage fright, so one of my teachers taught me how to meditate before a performance. Before every performance, I practiced those techniques, just as I did walking back to my room that morning. They didn't work. My heart was still racing fit to win a marathon, and my mouth felt like sandpaper. Not to mention the standard "butterflies" in my stomach. (I never much liked that term, but I can think of no other way to describe it.)   
As I approached my room, a room that was no longer mine alone, I heard voices. The voices of my two new roommates. As I got closer to the door, the voices became words I could understand. The two girls I would be living with were discussing Cooper Nielson.   
"It just kinda freaks me out that we're going to be seeing people like him around all the time now." One of them remarked as I stepped quietly into the room.   
"You'll get used to it." I blurted out before I could stop myself. The two girls jumped and turned to face me. Giving them the once over, I realized what an odd pair they made. One of them, the one who had commented on Cooper Nielson, was a petite and pretty blonde with a pale, delicate face, and wide blue eyes that reminded me of a deer trapped in headlights. The other was tall, slim, and black, with much less dainty features than the blonde, and she projected an air of unyielding confidence. I forced myself to smile.   
"I'm Maureen." I told them, wincing at the afflicted note in my voice. "I guess I'm living with you." The black girl gave me an amused half-smile.   
"Don't sound so excited." she joked, taking a drag on the cigarette fixed between her fingers. I wrinkled my nose. I absolutely loathed cigarettes. Still, I didn't want to be rude. Before I could figure out how to best bring it up, the blonde stepped forward, offering me her hand and a friendly smile.   
"I'm Jody." she said in a voice that was small and a bit unsure, but amiable nonetheless. She pointed to the other girl. "That's Eva."   
"Nice to meet you." I said absently, far more focused on the fumes from Eva's cigarette than either of them. They were giving me quite a headache. Ugh. Why dancers smoked when they couldn't afford to be short of breath was beyond my realm of understanding.   
"Um…what are you doing?" I asked Eva, still trying to be as polite as possible. She gazed haughtily at me, looking as if she didn't understand the question.   
"I'm knitting a sweater." she said sarcastically and took another puff on the disgusting thing. I blinked, a bit taken aback by her attitude.   
"Uh, if you want to smoke, you'll have to go outside." Eva's coal-black eyes narrowed dangerously. She blew out a mouthful of white smoke, her eyes never leaving mine.   
"Fine. I'll go outside." was her cold reply. She turned to Jody. "You coming?" With that, she strode out of the room. Jody, following hesitantly behind her, flashed me a feeble grin on her way out., not meeting my gaze.   
"Bye, Maureen." she murmured, and scooted out of the room as if she were afraid to stay. _Well._ A voice inside my head teased sadistically. _That went well._   
  



	3. chapter 2

maureen3 Chapter 2 

Except, of course, for my new roommates, the new season began like any other. As usual, Mom made it very clear that I had to keep at least one eye on the new students to make sure that I would be above any competition. She was especially vehement today, as this was my last year at ABA. At the end of the year would be the student workshop, which would decide my fate as a dancer.   
"If you hope to make the company, Maureen," Mom told me sternly as she walked with me to the studio, "you can't afford to lose your place as top student in the school to any other dancer."   
_You think I don't know that?_ I thought darkly, feeling my heart begin to pound. I wiped my sweaty palms on my warm-up sweater, and swallowed hard. Okay, Maureen. Breathe deeply…Ahh. That was better. Feeling calmer already, I closed my eyes and delved deeper into my meditations. Visualize. Imagine yourself performing each step perfectly. Confidently. A slight smile threatened my lips. Visualization techniques were always my favorite--mostly because when I first learned how to meditate, my greatest fear was messing up when my mother was watching. If I pictured myself dancing perfectly before going on, I usually did. Plus, when you visualize, you can add little extra pleasures that probably wouldn't happen in real life. Currently, I was picturing Juliet's approving nod as I went effortlessly through a complicated adagio, which ended with the entire class bursting into applause, and Jonathan welcoming me into the company.   
"Are you listening to me?" Mom asked sharply. My eyes flew open. The studio faded from my vision. Well, not exactly. We'd reached the door of the studio, but, inside, rather than the entire applauding class, was most of the girls' class, stretching and preparing their pointe shoes. Mom gave me a quick hug and smiled up at me. She's a head shorter than me, and a little dumpy in comparison to my thin, lanky figure.   
"Break a leg, Sweetie." she told me, and hurried off to her office, leaving me staring after her in a slight daze. She always told me to break a leg. She didn't mean it literally, of course. "Break a leg" is a way of saying "good luck" in the world of the stage. What got to me was the fact that she told me that before every class as well as every performance. To her, every class was like a performance, and in a performance, you couldn't mess up. There are no second chances in a performance, and by my mom's philosophy, there weren't any in class either. Everything counted. Oh, God. I was getting nervous again. Breathe, Maureen, breathe! 

*** 

Heeding my mother's warning, I watched the new students out of the corner of my eye as I sat cross-legged on the floor of the studio, sewing the satin ribbons onto my pointe shoes. Jody was the only one I recognized. She was warming up on the floor, her eyes darting back and forth nervously. She looked like a scared rabbit. Eva was nowhere to be seen. I couldn't detect anything worth fretting over from any of the new students yet. How a dancer prepared her pointe shoes or stretched before class couldn't really tell you much. So, while my hands were busy sewing my shoes, my mind, with nothing else to focus on drifted into the recent past, to when I was left at the studio door by my mother. Break a leg, Sweetie. Her innocent remark sent a stab of emotion through me.   
I wasn't angry, at least, I don't think I was. I didn't know why her statement always caused distinctly negative emotions to boil up inside me. After all, she was just wishing me luck. But wishing me luck before class made it feel like a performance, and, of course, there's no room for mistakes in a performance. And thinking that I couldn't afford to mess up in class always made me nervous. But, I really couldn't afford to make mistakes. Mom probably just used the phrase as a subtle reminder how much was riding on each class. But it wasn't as if she ever let me forget. And my childhood teachers had told me time and time again that I wouldn't dance well if I was too tense. But Mom had her own ideas when it came to my dancing, and one of them was never to forget my goal: becoming part of ABC. And if reminding me subtly that I couldn't slack off for a moment helped…still, it made me so goddamned nervous.   
"Ow!" I hissed under my breath as my sewing needle made its way into the tip of my index finger. Smooth, Maureen. I thought, sucking on my wounded finger. And how long has it been since you've done that? Well, at least there was no damage done to my shoes. Pushing aside my momentary clumsiness, I tied on the satin shoes, and started my floor exercises, half-meditating as I stretched.   
Moments later, the boys' class poured into the studio, followed closely by Jonathon Reeves, the company director, and the rest of the teachers. Grinning and chatting, the boys joined the girls as we all gathered in the center of the room, exchanging hugs, kisses, and greetings with their favorite females. I noticed Jody taking the hands of a smooth-headed boy with light brown skin, and made up my mind to ask Jody who he was later. I hate not knowing who my classmates are. Silly, I know, but true.   
Jonathon cleared his throat, demanding silence. He got it immediately. Jonathon is the kind of man that makes you want to please him, whether or not you know him.   
"Good morning." he greeted us. Most of us nodded in response. A few of the new students smiled shyly. "Will the new students please raise their hands." Hands went up all around in the crowd, causing me to suddenly remember my mother's advice. I immediately began to scrutinize the newbies.   
"Now which of you was the best dancer in the last class he or she took?" The response to Jonathon's question amused me. A lot of embarrassed looks and sheepish smiles, but no one was admitting anything. Foolish modesty. Jonathon grinned. "C'mon. Don't be shy." Reluctantly, most of them raised their hands, setting off a stream of involuntary comments inside my brain.   
_ Ooh! That one redhead raised her hand right away! Keep an eye on her._   
_ Relax! It probably means nothing!_   
_ Watch them! Watch them all! They'll all be after your spot in the company!_   
_ You're going insane, Maureen! Relax!_   
_ Insane is good! It keeps you alert! Watch them like a hawk! Just don't let them take away from your dancing!_   
Applause snapped me from my reverie. Jonathon was finished speaking, and the crowd of students was thinning as we split up into our girls' and boys' classes. I silently scolded myself for letting myself become distracted.   
"Oh, one more thing!" Jonathon called. "Next week is the company gala. We always invite our advanced students to attend and help out at the reception afterwards." With that, he turned, and began to lead the boys out of the studio. But before he could leave, the studio door opened unexpectedly. From my place at the barre, I craned my neck to see who was there. My jaw nearly hit the floor from surprise. Breezing nonchalantly into the room, loudly snapping her bubble gum, was Eva. 

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Okay, was that a strange place to end the chapter? If it was, sorry! Also, sorry this chapter's so short.Thanks to everyone who's reveiwed so far. I'm so phsyched that you all like my fic! And I promise it will be finished. Oh, and if I may make a request, please look around for some of my other stories, namely, an original novel, "River of Dreams." I only have one review to that one, and I really do think it's good...okay, I'll shut up now. 


	4. chapter 3

Chapter 3 

That Eva would dare to be late to class, especially on the first day, was surprising enough, without her nonchalant attitude to top it off. But what really shocked me was her appearance. She was dressed in a dark green athletic leotard, and though she had pulled most of her hair back into a tight bun, two strands hung in front of her ears, framing her cocoa brown face. Jonathon cocked an eyebrow at the tardy newbie.   
"And you are…?"   
"Eva Rodriguez." She replied, gazing easily at him, as if she were unaware of the danger. Somehow, that didn't seem very likely.   
"So glad you could fit us into your busy schedule, Eva." Eva smiled coolly.   
"No sweat." she drawled with a saucy grin. Most of the students burst into surprised laughter. Some murmured wonderingly at her insolence. A few of the teachers drew back in shock. Clearly insulted, they stood gaping at Eva, who evenly returned their evil looks. As the dark girl breezed past, Juliet eyed her coldly. Me, I grinned smugly. I knew right away that I had nothing to fear from Miss Eva Rodriguez. 

*** 

Class went on without further incident--at least, not from Eva. In fact, she turned out to be extremely good. Had it not been for her smart-ass comment at the beginning of the class, I might have felt threatened by her skill. I knew, however, that attitude was as important to Jonathon as talent. I knew right away that Eva was doomed.   
As for Jody…well, suffice to say she was not up to Eva's level. Okay, so she came out of a less-than-perfect chaines turn, and collided with Anna. Somehow, Anna was able to laugh it off. I had always admired her for that. She was always so willing to let things go. I, on the other hand, was not. But I had nothing to get angry about today. I danced perfectly all through class, and left in a very good mood. Jody, obviously, was not so happy.   
"I swear I'm better than that!" she insisted as she, Eva, Anna, Emily, and I went to watch the last few minutes of the boys' class. "I'm just so nervous." Eva smiled kindly.   
"Hey, don't sweat it!" she said. "The first day never counts!"   
"Everything counts here." I told her, suddenly remembering my mother's words from that morning. Of course, Mom was right. Mom was always right. But right now, I didn't want to think about it. I pushed it into the back of my mind, and peeked in on the boy's class with the other girls.   
From where I was, I couldn't see the boy I'd seen Jody with that morning, but I could see a very attractive boy doing the proper combination with perfect technique. Anna and Emily immediately began ogling. As the boy passed, he smiled a hello at Jody and Eva, who informed us that his name was Charlie.   
A moment later, I felt Anna's elbow in my ribs, and turned to look where she was pointing. Kathleen Donnahue, dressed in summery attire, was headed in our direction. She smiled at us as she passed.   
"Hi, girls. Maureen. Anna." she greeted us, nodding, and continued on her way.   
"Hi, Kathleen!" Anna called after her. Jody's jaw dropped, and I could tell she was impressed.   
"That was Kathleen Donnahue, wasn't it?"   
"Yup." Anna replied a bit smugly. Friendly as she was, Anna did love to show off. "THE Kathleen Donnahue."   
"Oh my God! She's beautiful!" Jody gushed. Involuntarily, I rolled my eyes. So did Eva, although I don't think it was unintentional in her case.   
"Well, I think she looks kinda like a gerbil." she declared.   
"What?" Jody exclaimed, looking at her as if she'd lost her mind.   
"She does!" Eva insisted, as we headed out to the lounge to relax a bit before lunch. Somehow, we got into a discussion about Kathleen's relationship with Cooper Nielson, and her scandalous affair with Jonathon Reeves. And I learned something very interesting about Jody Sawyer.   
"I heard he hasn't spoken to anyone." I said of Cooper Nielson as I took a seat on the floor beside Emily.   
"He talked to me." Jody remarked off-handedly, as if it were the most unimportant thing in the world. Well, Anna, Emily, and I certainly didn't think it was any kind of trivial matter. As one, we turned our questioning eyes on our new classmate.   
"What?" I asked incredulously. Jody shrank back under our collective stare.   
"You know…he offered to help me with my bags." she explained in a small voice. I exchanged a knowing glance with Anna and Emily. As I did, I noticed something that I found way more interesting than Cooper Nielson: as we sat there in the lounge, chatting, Emily happily munched away on a bag of trail mix! I stole a surreptitious glance at her belly. She was quite a bit bigger than she was last season. I suppressed a smile. Oh boy, was Mom going to love that one. Sometime during our little powwow, I learned that the boy I'd seen Jody with was named Erik Jones, but I wasn't worried about that any longer. I had a lot more important things to think of at the moment. 

*** 

When I peeked into my mother's office just before lunch, she was on the phone, deeply engrossed in her conversation. With whom, I really couldn't tell, but I was glad to detect a hint of amusement in her voice. I really hated walking in on her when she was miffed with whoever she was talking to. It was never pretty.   
"…Bob, it's a benefit! If I give you extra seats, I'm taking money away from the company!" she was saying. At that moment, she spied me hovering in the doorway, and waved me in with a warm smile. I stepped inside and walked up to her desk, where I patiently waited for her to finish her call.   
"Oh, what the hell?" she told the person on the other end--Bob, I guess. "Three seats under your name at will call, but only because I'm nice." With that, she hung up the phone, and turned all her attention to me.   
"Hi, Sweetie." she greeted me, standing and leaning over her desk to kiss my cheek. Then, sitting down again, she raised her eyebrows expectantly, all business once more. "Well?"   
I grinned. "Nothing to worry about."   
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Author's Note: Sorry if this chapter isn't as good as the last few have been. I was really feeling kinda uninspired when I wrote this, but I figured I should just get my lazy ass in gear and write you guys a chapter to tide you over for a while since it's been so long since I updated this. Sorry for that, too.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



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